


The Valentine Fic

by 17405



Series: The 6:45 to Midtown (series/collection) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Hipster Steve Rogers, M/M, Musician Bucky Barnes, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17405/pseuds/17405
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine's Day was a stupid commercialistic scam. </p><p>A day pushed by corporations to guilt poor suckers into spending stupid amounts of their hard-earned money on stupid crap that no one really needed or wanted.</p><p>Steve had felt this way about the so-called “holiday” for as long as he could remember.</p><p>But then again, he’d never had Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valentine Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Plans got changed for tomorrow, so I wouldn't have been able to post this until the day was nearly over! :( (thus defeating the purpose of a Valentine fic, lol) So I decided better early than late, right!? ;)
> 
> Also...I know, I know, great title, right? 8D; I couldn't come up with anything and this is what I've had it saved as, so....boom. There we go.
> 
>  
> 
> Well for those who have been waiting for this since I finished up The 6:45 to Midtown, hope you guys enjoy! And to those who clicked on this because they wanted something Valentiney, hi! :) If you enjoy this, feel free to go check out the main story this is branched off from. I did make this a 'series' collection thing, so also feel free to subscribe to that in case I post something else! :D
> 
> And jfc, i'm nervous about posting this for some reason. I have no idea WHY. Maybe because I've had this done for awhile (*cough*threeweeks*cough*) and I've started second-guessing myself. 8D; This def went through some tweaking the last few days, hopefully for the better. But you know the drill, if something's weird or whatever don't tell me :X Like I have a feeling I used a comma too many here and there but pfff, this was just for funsies and I really don't wanna re-read this for the millionth time because I'll end up hating it. :P
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this, there may or may not be some more one-shots in the future. ;Dv I'm always trying to think of cute things....

“ _Run! Oh, God!”_

A sickening _squish_ , followed by screaming and snarling.

Steve kept his eyes glued on the screen as he popped another conversation heart candy into his mouth, not bothering to look and see what the little printed message across its surface was. Kiss me. Hug Me. Call Me. They all tasted the same, so what did it matter?

He relented on the next chalky-looking heart, the curiosity getting the better of him.

 _My Baby_?

Rolling his eyes, he chomped down onto it with no small amount of conviction. If Bucky ever called him that, he’d probably punch him in the face.

He sighed, shaking the box of candy to dump another handful of hearts out. _Bucky._ The brunette had been right when he was concerned that his free time was going to be limited after the first of the year. The last couple of weeks he’d been hunkered down in his studio or at some meeting with that nitpicky director— which was where he was right now, hence the reason why Steve was sitting on his couch all by himself in in pajamas.

It was no big deal really, considering his feelings on the day. But Bucky had felt pretty horrible about it and even talked about trying to get out of the meeting altogether; Steve had nearly thrown a fit and flat-out forbid the other to even _think_ about doing that--multiple times. Because not only was ditching on work for the sham that was this ‘holiday’ completely irresponsible, Steve didn’t know if he had it in him to swallow his pride down and accept celebrating in some form, no matter how crazy he was about the brunette.

The person in the movie ran through a heavily wooded area; they tripped and fell, and the zombie hoard rapidly approached to devour them. Steve smirked. It was fine with him, he sort of hated the character anyway. It just sucked it took three seasons of the show to get to it.

The sound of his phone ringing cut him from his thoughts, and his eyes quickly scanned the coffee table in an attempt to pick it out among the mess of sugary snacks that he’d gotten on the way home from work earlier in the day.

The phone rang again.

Grunting in defeat, Steve tossed down the box of hearts down next to some pixie sticks--- _pixie sticks,_ damnit. Because he didn’t even realize that they still _made_ pixie sticks; he thought by now someone would have made the things illegal by now for the sake of national health issues.

 _Aha._ There it was. Nestled right between the box of the frosted animal cookies and the Twinkies.  Snatching the still-ringing device up, he eyed the screen before sliding his thumb over the button to see that unsurprisingly, it was Natasha.

He grinned, knowing _exactly_ what she was calling for. The so-called “Day of Love” was always received with mixed feelings in the Barton/Romanov household. Natasha held nowhere near the same opinion of the day that Steve did, but she _did_ hate surprises. Especially Clint’s surprises. Last year Steve was privy to the shenanigans that had been planned, but of course that had backfired spectacularly because he was a horrible liar and Natasha was completely aware of that little fact. She had locked him in the walk-in cooler at the restaurant and forced him to spill his guts.

He’d lasted a whole four minutes and thirty-two seconds.

She’d run home to find Clint in the middle of his over-the-top plan of filling their apartment with daises-- Natasha’s favorite flower---and those shiny red heart-shaped balloons. The apartment had stunk like flowers and plastic for _days_ after and needless to say that….daisies? Weren’t her favorite anymore.

Placing the phone to his ear, Steve grinned cheekily. “I don’t know a damn thing this year, so don’t bother asking.”

Natasha snorted indignantly on the other end of the line. “ _Did it ever occur to you that I might be calling you for reasons that are_ not _Clint-related?”_

 “Oh, ok then.” He leaned back into the couch smugly. “So you _did_ figure out what he’s got planned without threatening or attempting to harm to my person.”

“ _You still haven’t forgiven me for that, huh?”_

She sounded way too amused for Steve’s liking, and he sat up just a little straighter in his seat. “You forgot to let me _out!”_

The woman tsked. “ _Sam found you like ten minutes later.”_

“Beside the point.”

 _“Anyway, no, I haven’t figured out what Clint’s got planned,”_ She changed the subject, much to Steve’s annoyance. _“He’s covering his tracks really well this year. Part of me wonders if he’s not planning anything at all just so he can get me.”_

“Actually, that would be hilarious,” Steve sniggered. “You wouldn’t see _that_ coming….”

Who was he kidding? No matter how many times Clint failed on trying to pull one over on the redhead –which was every birthday as well as Valentine’s Day-- he was never going to give up. There was too much fun in planning hilarious and painfully embarrassing surprises for her, and _she_ had too much fun trying to figure out what it was before the clock ran out. Sam and he had chalked it up to it all being one of those weird ‘couples things’ that everyone in a relationship seemed to have with their significant other--not that Clint or Natasha would ever admit to it.

“ _Sure, laugh it up. I bet you’ve already figured out what Bucky’s got going on,”_ She accused lightly.

“He doesn’t _have_ anything ‘ _going on’_.”

“ _Oh I’m so sure,”_ Natasha scoffed. “ _We’re talking about the same Bucky Barnes, right? Steve, he texts you those stupid heart emojis when you’re sitting across from each other at the table.”_

“He did that just the _one_ time _!”_ Steve argued, his face turning red at the memory of the double date they had all gone on a of couple weeks ago. He shifted on the couch, picking at the edge of the blanket he had draped over his legs. “He had a meeting and didn’t know when it was gonna wrap up, so I told him not to worry about it. It took the stress off him.” And the composer had _definitely_ been feeling the stress lately, what with those weekly ‘check-in’ deadlines he had to meet with the director and producers to make sure he was giving them what they were wanting. _Control freaks._

“ _On Valentine’s Day? I would have thought people involved with the_ theater-“ She said the word with a dramatic flourish “- _would be a little more sensitive about things like this.”_

“Or maybe they’ve realized what a sham it all is and how—“

“ _And how it’s all a big corporate scandal to suck the money and souls out of us poor pitiful mortals, I know, I know,”_ Natasha had heard his rants more than on one occasion. “ _But you can’t boycott Valentine’s Day when you have a guy like Bucky Barnes as a boyfriend.”_

Steve pouted determinedly. “Watch me.”

She sighed. ” _Just promise me that if he does end up springing something on you, you won’t give him that stupid speech? I swear to God that he and Clint have this telepathic ‘bro’ link and---“_ She stopped.

He sat up. “What is it?”

“ _Clint’s home. I gotta go. I have a bad feeling about this.”_

Before he could say anything, the phone hung up—but not before hearing the redhead’s voice faintly exclaim “ _Are those_ doves, _Barton!?”_

Tossing his phone back down onto the coffee table, he reached out for a pixie stick all while cackling his head off. He couldn’t _wait_ to hear every single detail tomorrow. And listen to Clint’s whining about how he was made to sleep on the couch. Again.

 

 

 

Steve hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep until he heard a loud noise of something being dropped on the table in front of him, followed by the sound of wrappers and plastic bags being shoved around. After blinking his eyes open he saw that Bucky was hovering over the table and looking for something rather frantically.

“What you doin’?” He yawned. His glasses had fallen down a bit on his nose and he shoved them up lazily. He had no idea what time it was but it must not have been too far off from when he’d fallen asleep, since the DVD was still running.

“I’m trying to turn the damn TV off!” The brunette exclaimed. A particular gory scene was going on, a character getting torn to pieces; the sounds of flesh tearing and blood squishing filled the living room and Bucky looked like he was going to hurl. “Just--Holy mother of God, what are you _watching_?!”

_Oh shit._

“Sorry!” Steve scrambled for the controls, finding that he had been sitting on them the entire time. He smashed the pause button, heart racing frantically in his chest.

_Oh, look at that. A clear shot of someone’s intestines._

Groaning, Bucky rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I can’t unsee it, Stevie. I can’t. Oh my God I can still _hear_ it…”  The brunette’s attention turned to the coffee table, eying the DVD cases and the candy.  “Did you eat all of this?” He picked up a wrapper and made a face. “How did you even fall asleep with all this running through your system? You should be running up and down the stairs for _fun_ by now.”

Embarrassed, Steve dodged the question and opted to look over at the clock instead. “What are you doing here? What about that meeting?”

“Got done earlier than I thought I would,” The other man shrugged, unwrapping a foil-covered piece of chocolate and shoving it into his mouth unceremoniously. He turned to look at the television and quickly averted his eyes again, a visible shudder running through him. “Jesus, why are you watching this shit _today_?”

Steve smirked. “This is what I do every year.”

“ _Why.”_

“Because Valentine’s Day is a scam,” Steve sat up and grabbed a handful of garbage off the coffee table to take it into the kitchen.

“Oh? You uh…you think so?” Bucky asked hesitantly after him through a mouthful of chocolate.

“Yeah. And watching horror movies is like, one of the most opposite things to do, right?”” Steve shrugged, speaking over his shoulder. “It’s just a scheme for businesses to guilt people into spending money on stupid shit disguising it as _romantic_ and--”

He entered the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks.

Roses were on the counter. And a heart-shaped box that more than likely contained chocolates was next to them.

But more importantly, what took up Steve’s main focus? Was the giant stuffed bear wearing a big red bow that was sitting on one of the island’s stools.

Natasha’s request floated through his brain. _Just promise me that if he does end up springing something on you, you won’t give him that stupid speech.._

_Well shit._

Slowly, he turned back to look at Bucky. The brunette was fidgeting and looking just a little nervous, and Steve couldn’t blame him. A pang of regret went through his chest but he couldn’t help it when one of his eyebrows ticked up on his own accord as he stole another glance at the bear again.

Bucky frowned. “What, you don’t like Harold?”

One of Steve’s hands rose to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a small headache coming on. “You named it already,” he mumbled. _Of course he named it already_. He didn’t even wanna know how the other had gotten it over to his apartment.  And Lord help him if any of his neighbors saw it.

Bucky winced. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, stopping him as the guilt reared its ugly head because he was _not_ going to let the man _apologize_ for just trying to do what he thought was a nice gesture. Not after he’d gone out of his way to do it. 

“No, Buck. It’s fine, I appreciate it, I really do. It’s just…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a little surprised, that’s all.”

“Well that was sort of the _point….”_

Bucky was looking more uncomfortable by the second and Steve began to get suspicious. He took a good look at the other and realized that he was dressed pretty nice-- _too_ nice to have come from an obligatory chit-chat with someone down at the theater. He had seen him leave or come from those meetings before and the causal-fitting black blazer and white button-up shirt was definitely _not_ something that was normal…

“You uh….didn’t do anything else, did you?” He asked carefully, not wanting to hurt Bucky’s feelings. He was cursed Natasha in his head because she had been right about everything. _As usual._

The brunette bit his lips, flinching. “...Dinner reservations?”

“ _Dinner reservations?”_ Steve repeated incredulously. He never thought he’d ever hear _those_ words come from the other’s mouth---he had a kitchen drawer dedicated to take-out menus for crying out loud.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky apologized again quickly, obviously misunderstanding the small outburst. “When you said you didn’t want to do anything, I thought you were just trying to be nice or somethin’!” The brunette shifted on his feet as he babbled on. “It’s just that I’ve been so busy since New Year’s and we really haven’t been able to hang out much lately, I just thought that tonight was a good time to—“

Steve head heard enough. And ok, maybe he could admit to himself that he felt just a _little_ giddy about the turn of events. Even if part of his brain called him a sucker and a traitor for it.

Reaching out, he took a handful of Bucky’s shirt and hauled him down so he could plant a kiss on the still-running mouth.

“Lemme go get changed, ok?”

 

 

 

Hearing a noise from the bathroom door, Steve looked away from the mirror and found Bucky leaning against the frame, smiling.

Steve frowned a little. “What is it?”

The brunette crossed his arms and gave him a knowing look. “Are you sure you’re going to have room for some actual food?”

Bucky had volunteered since they were hurting for time---the reservation was at seven, and it was ten after six—to pick up the mess in the living room, not wanting to leave anything for ants or other critters to find and think it an invitation to move in. Apparently he’d eaten a lot more junk food than he originally thought.

“Oh shut up,” Steve huffed. “I didn’t eat lunch.”

“Like that makes it any better,” The brunette snickered. “So are you ready yet?”

“Yeah.” Steve stood back from the counter so the other could see him properly in his khakis and blue button-up. “Do I look ok?”

The only reason he had either item of clothing was for when he had attended Sam’s sister’s wedding a little over a year ago. It was definitely not something he’d usually wear and it was _definitely_ a step down from Bucky’s sharply-dressed form, but it wasn’t like he had much choice since this was all he had in way of formal clothing.

The other man practically leered in the doorway, giving Steve his answer without using any words.

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” The brunette blinked innocently.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Steve attempted to give him the best no-nonsense look he could muster. “That _look_ ,” he sighed heavily, fighting the way his cheeks were starting to heat up. “The one you get when you’re—“He stopped, not falling for it. He wasn’t going to say it. Bucky _wanted_ him to say it, so there was no way he was going to say it. Nope.

“We’re gonna be late,” He tried again, turning to put his comb into the drawer. He heard the other enter the bathroom, moving up behind him. “We’ll have to get a cab if we want to be there on time--“ Steve felt a hand against his back, and it pushed him carefully forward to lean over the counter. He let it happen, but he grumbled a warning again all the same when he felt the brunette’s other hand fumble with and then push the end of his belt through the loop.

Steve looked up at the other through the mirror, kicking himself because his face was now a decent shade of pink. “I mean it, Buck. We’re going to be late.”

 _“I’m_ the one who made the reservation, let me worry about it.” Bucky chuckled as Steve felt his other hand squeeze his ass playfully.

 

 

 

 

Steve’s hand slapped against the tiny bathroom’s mirror in an attempt to brace against the steadily delivered thrusts that came from behind. The move had caused something to fall off the counter and to the floor with a loud clatter, rolling until it hit the side of the bathtub only a few feet away.

He couldn’t help but let out a moan, the sound made all the louder as it hit the small space’s walls. Steve’s head dropped down between his shoulders in embarrassment. It was unfair, _completely_ unfair. His feet weren’t even touching the floor anymore for Christ’s sake; Bucky had had to make up for their drastic height difference _somehow,_ and had hauled him up to leave him helplessly clinging to anything and everything that he could grab onto so he didn’t fall face first into the glass--because he’d already done that once and he didn’t care to repeat it.

The brunette laughed behind him, hands tightening around Steve’s hips. He paused. “You ok?”

Grunting, Steve hissed out a swear under his breath and looked up into the mirror to glare at the other; he even still had his stupid blazer on, and he didn’t get why that was so damn _hot._

“God damnit Bucky, you—“

Bucky twisted hips, pulling him back with a playful tug. Steve’s spine arched in an almost painful way as the jolt that was sent up into his brain, effectively cutting off what he was trying to say. Then Bucky moved forward causing Steve’s thighs to dig into the edge of the counter and it _stung._

His mouth dropped open in surprise as one of Bucky’s hands slipped away from its hold on his hip to his stomach, no longer needed to help support his weight. His shirt had been shoved up to tuck under his arms some time ago for many reasons, one of them being that Steve didn’t want it to get dirty since Bucky refused to leave the bathroom to continue things somewhere a little more _sensible_.

The brunette coaxed him to lean back, warm palm burning against his skin and fingers pressing. His mouth pressed to Steve’s ear, a chuckle rumbling low in his throat. “I’m guessing that was a yes?”

 

 

 

Steve didn’t even care that he’d probably made a mess on the counter. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet to check, but he could just hope that the sink caught most of it. The sink where he _brushed his teeth oh God that was disgusting to think about_ why _did he think about that right now._

Groaning, he swallowed hard as he looked up into the mirror. His cheeks were flushed bright red, his hair mussed. “Satisfied?”

“Maybe,” Bucky panted coyly against his shoulder. Steve felt a light bite, dulled through the material of his shirt. The lips pulled back in a smile. “Gonna have to do this again when we get back. You know, just to make sure.”

Steve sighed as Bucky let his feet _finally_ touch the floor. “Should we even bother going?” he asked shakily, knees not quite up to task of taking on weight yet. “We won’t make it on time now.” He’d most definitely have to shower again. _And_ have to iron his shirt. He just hoped that it or his pants didn’t get dirty because they had _zero_ time to wait around for the washing machine if they wanted to get into anywhere nice on last minute’s notice. It probably wouldn’t happen, but Steve could deal with a dinner at one of their usual walk-in cheap places. All that mattered was just having Bucky there.

Said brunette made a noise in his throat, and the hand that was rubbing at Steve’s back in a soothing motion ceased.

“Well I….sorta have a confession to make.”

Steve looked up into the mirror, eyes narrowing. “ _What_.”

A guilt-laced look crossed the other’s features. It would have been convincing if he wasn’t _grinning like a little shit._ “The reservation’s for eight-thirty. Not seven.”

Staring at him, wide-eyed, the realization donned on Steve that _Bucky_ had _planned_ this _._ His mouth twisted into a sharp frown. “I cannot _believe_ you.”

“You didn’t _want_ to be late, did ya?” Bucky pulled back with a cocky smile. “Told you to let me worry about it.”

“You’re ironing my stuff while I take another shower,” Steve yanked his shirt off and shoved it into the brunette’s hands, ignoring the pout that the action produced. “And _then_ you’re taking me to dinner, asshole.”

Bucky chuckled. “Yes sir.”

 


End file.
